


thirty days

by Indubitably



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-08 03:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indubitably/pseuds/Indubitably
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Attempt at the 30 Day OTP Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Holding Hands

“You’re going to be okay,” you tell him over and over again even as his blood continues to trickle down his arm. But you can’t stop saying it, won’t stop saying it, as your hands flit over John’s body. His right arm hangs limply at his side, his blood having turned Jade’s skirt red, and you think it’ll have to be amputated before the virus spreads everywhere else. “It’s not that bad.”

“Maybe if you are blind cause it’s preeeeetty bad.” He laughs a little, tries to bat your hands away with his free hand, but you're relentless. You run your fingers through his coarse hair, smooth them down his dirtied cheek, and trail them down the curve of his jaw. His skin is still clammy and cold under your touch, but his pulse steady and strong now. His fingers close around your wrist and he pulls your hand away from his neck. “It’s pretty bad, Dave.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say, “red is the new black.”

He tugs on your sweatshirt, red and dirtied with blood, sweat, and tears. “Then you must be all the rage.” He smiles, his dumb teeth peeking out just a tiny bit, and winks.

You roll your eyes. You’re not really in the mood for jokes. “Ha ha, so funny, you dipshit. How are you feeling?”

He shifts a little, tries to avoid jostling his right arm. “Better?” He says, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he bites his lips when he settles back down again. He looks up and you look up too. The sun is setting and you wonder if Rose and Jade are close to getting back yet. And apparently you aren’t the only one to be thinking that. “They should be back by now,” he mumbles and moves to stand, “I’m going to go look for them.”

You stop him with a hand to his shoulder; shove him back down onto his ass. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea because it’s not like the girls can’t take care of themselves and you’re not gravely hurt. I mean, just look at you! You’re in the best shape you’ve ever been in. Just look at those chiseled abs and those glorious biceps. Wow, they’re giving me the vapors, Egbert. Put those away before I’m suddenly deemed unmarriageable.”

He flexes the muscles in his left arm, smiles brightly at you and says, “It’s okay; I’ll marry you. We can have like… five gay butt babies and they will all be precious and beautiful.”

“With a house that faces the sunset.”

“More like the ocean.”

“I can’t swim.”

“Then don’t go into the ocean, dumb-butts.”

A pause. “What’s the point of having an ocean view if you don’t go to the ocean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.” He looks at you, face solemn and serious. “What’s the point of having a bunch of shitty broken swords lying around when you don’t use them? The world is a mystery, Dave.”

“Wow rude, loser,” you say as you gently cuff him on the head. “Can I get a divorce?”

He laughs. “Sure, if that is what you really want.” He then takes your hand, tugs you towards him, and presses his lips to yours. John pulls away with a smile, his glasses a little bit askew, and your fingers intertwined with his. “I would be really sad if that happened though.”

You look down, look back up at him then hold up your intertwined hands. “Oh well will you look at that, we’re holding hands.” You feign a gasp; let your mouth fall open to theatric proportions and John guffaws. “Guess it’s too late for a divorce now. We’re too entrenched in this bitch. This is a holy matrimony that’s gonna last through all the ages like radioactive shit or something.”

He snickers, playfully butts his head against yours. “Dork.”

You gently head butt him back. “Your dork.”

(You two are still holding hands when Rose and Jade show up ten minutes later.)


	2. Cuddling Somewhere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still the same vague apocalypse AU from chapter one, but with more vague time skipping.

It’s not Dave who saves John. It’s a young girl around his age with round glasses, a steady arm, and the hair of a wild child. The body drops from the headshot and the noise of the shot echoes throughout the playground. John wipes off the blood on his face, tries to catch his breath and look marginally more presentable as she approaches him with hurried steps and a worried frown. “Are you okay?” she asks him with her palm smoothing over his hair like she’s known him all her life, and John nods as he bats away her smothering hands.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

\--

She explains to him that she’s traveling with a group and that they’re always happy to have another member. And even though she doesn’t request it of him, he gets the inkling that he can’t say no either (not with the way she looks at him hopefully and he wonders when was the last time she saw someone else like them).

When he arrives at the camp, he didn’t think that the group would consist of only two other people. Both of them stop what they’re doing to stare at John and Jade. John stares back and it’s an awkward impasse until Jade breaks the silence, “Dave, Rose, this is John. John, this is Dave and Rose!”

Rose wipes her hand on his skirt, gets up from where she was crouched over a pot, and makes her way over to John. “Hello John,” she says as he takes her smaller hand in his and gives it a firm pump like his father taught, “welcome to the group I suppose?” He pretends not to notice how she wipes her hand on her skirt right after. “When Jade was leaving, I wasn’t quite expecting her to come back with somebody else.” She gives Jade _a look_ and Jade’s face lights up.

“I guess the world is full of surprises!”

(Dave doesn’t make any attempts to talk to John. When it’s time to turn in for the night, John sees Rose give him a consoling pat on the back, and can’t help but feel like it’s because of him.)

\--

“Does he hate me?”

Her hand stills from stirring the stew and she looks up at him. “Uh, what?” she says eloquently and John blushes from nerves.

“Dave. Does he hate me?”

“No, not to the best of my knowledge. Why do you ask?”

John scoffs, rolls his eyes like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. “I have been here for a week already and we’ve never talked? Not even a hi, Rose. _Not even a hi_. I’ve seen him talk to you and Jade and _he talks a lot_. Like, never-shuts-up type of talking! But then I stand next to him and he stares at me like I’m dumb.”

“And you… actually want that? The chattering?”

“Yeeees?” He doesn’t sound very sure.

“Well, I would recommend that you don’t worry about it too much. You have a natural charm and I’m sure that it’ll work out in the end. Doctor’s prescription.” She smiles up at him. He stares back down at her until he gets the hint (with helpful head gestures from Rose) and leaves to sulk in the tall grass.

“That was not helpful.”

“Too bad, so sad, do watch out for the zombies,” she singsongs to which John pleasantly presents her with his middle finger.

(He comes back hours later with a coin in his fist and grin on his face. He makes a beeline towards Dave, sits down in front of him, and holds up the coin. “Want to see a magic trick?”)

\--

“He’s just so _dweeby_ , “ Dave bemoans as he dramatically swoons into Jade’s personal bubble. She laughs, pushes him off her shoulder. “He showed me a magic trick yesterday. It was so lame, but he looked so happy about it that I gave him a pity smile. But God, it was the dumbest trick ever. And I’m just encouraging his lame behavior, aren’t I? It’s like your new puppy just pissed all over your pristine white sheets and then gives you that dumb look so you just want to coo and coddle it and then the next day there’s puppy piss all over your sheets again. And the next day, and the next day, and the next--”

“You really like John, don’t you?”

He pauses, rests his weight on the hilt of his sword. “Well I don’t _hate_ him.” A pause. “Do you… _like_ him?”

Jade stares at him, head cocked to the side as she shifts her gun to rest the barrel of it on her shoulder. “Well yeah I like him? That’s a pretty stupid thing to ask isn’t it? If I didn’t like him, why would I invite him?”

“Harley, if you hated him you still would have invited him to join us. That’s just the type of person you are.”

She sticks her tongue out at him. “Nuh-uh.”

“Harley.”

“Okay, maybe if he wasn’t dangerous! But that doesn’t mean anything! John isn’t dangerous and I don’t hate him and Rose doesn’t hate him and _you_ don’t hate him, so I don’t understand why you’re asking me this?” She huffs, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Why _are_ you asking me this?”

A shrug. “Curious I guess.”

\--

“Maybe we should head back to camp,” John says. There’s a sun-bleached skull lying on the ground at his feet and Dave shuffles over to take a closer look at it. It looks like it’s still in one piece and used to belong to a small mammal. He prods at it with his foot as John looks at Dave, waiting for a response that’s less of a bodily response and more of the verbal kind.

And he’ll keep on waiting because Dave just shrugs, does this weird little head-bobbing thing that John has learned by now means ‘sure, whatever you want.’ So he just sighs, tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. “Yeah, skulls lying around on the ground usually are not good signs. I learned that much from video games. Going back.”

Dave holds up one finger, the universal motion for ‘just wait one fucking minute’ and picks up the skull. He wipes off the dirt with his sleeve, stashes the bone in his sweatshirt’s pouch, and flashes John a thumbs-up.

John rolls his eyes. “Dork.”

\--

“Argh, this is such a bad campsite. I’m _so_ sorry you guys.” Jade sniffles, takes off her glasses to rub at her eyes. “I didn’t think it was going to _rain_ today.”

“No one thought it was going to rain today. There’s really no need to punish yourself,” Rose calls out to her from underneath the shelter. “This would have been an ideal location if it weren’t for the rain. It’s close to a convenience store, a stocked one at that, and it’s free from enemies. So we get a little soggy? It’s not that much of an issue. Just get out of the rain and come here.”

“Rose please, you’re sitting on soggy grass, John is half out in the rain, and Dave,” she pauses, tips her head to the side before groaning, “And Dave just looks miserable. I’m not going to fit under there.”

“Dave always looks miserable,” John mumbles and Jade snickers at Dave’s affronted expression. “Well it’s true!” John laughs as he flops onto Dave and shakes his head, sending water everywhere and Dave lets out a strangled noise.

“Dude, can you not? You’re like a wet dog and you don’t smell much better than one either. Man, maybe the rain is a sign from the gods that we all smell like shit encrusted gold and we’re in dire need of a shower.”

There’s a brief moment where nobody says anything, they just stare at Dave who stares blankly back at them. He huffs, face reddening. “Wow, you guys are all acting like I’ve never talked before. What’s this, Dave Strider actually doing something with his vocal cords in the presence of his friends? Get the presses cause this is some pretty big shit. Actually, don’t get them cause they’re probably all zombies.” His face is flushed red and burning. The other three watch him in stunned silence and he lets out a faint sound of anguish before hiding his face in his knees. “I regret everything. My life is just a humongous ball of embarrassment and regrets that only another teenager of a socially awkward and mildly perverse nature can ever hope to match in magnitude.”

“It’s okay Dave, I think you have that market cornered.”

“Wow, rude, John.”

John laughs, flings his arms over Dave as Rose wriggles her arms around his waist. Jade lets out a bark of laughter before dashing over to join them, tries her best to wrap her gangly arms around all of them. Dave lets out a noise that’s suspiciously similar to the dying squawk of a bird from the middle of the cuddlefest.

“You asses, get _off!_ I was actually _dry_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third person is a lot less awkward for me. Happier with this one than with the previous one, but still not completely satisfied. uwu


	3. Watching Movies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, no vague apocalypse AU, but have a random college AU in which Sburb never happens!
> 
> Edit: Why do you not publish on the right datesssss aksdfj

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” John says once you show up to the kitchen with the worst case of bed-hair you have ever experienced. You haven’t even gotten your daily cup of coffee so you just fix him with your best ‘too early for this shit’ look as you do the zombie shuffle through the place for a mug. John laughs at the sight like the dumb goober he is and you, mustering up all the sunny disposition in you, flip him the middle finger. He laughs even more at that before he points to a mug of steaming hot caffeinated delight, and says, “I don’t know how you like your coffee so it’s just black. You’re welcome.” He winks and you groan.

“Shit’s fine, I’m cool with that. Thanks,” you mumble as you do the shuffle over to where he’s sitting, legs crossed at the ankle with a coffee mug in one hand and a folded newspaper over his lap. He’s got this huge shit-eating grin on his face when you take your seat and you just look at him, one eyebrow visible over your shades. You look at your coffee, back up at him, back to the coffee, and you glare at him. “Did you do some weird shit to it? Put laxatives in it? Replaced it with prune juice, which just for your information, was a super shitty thing to do and I am still mad about that.”

He laughs. “I didn’t do anything to your coffee!” And he has the audacity to bat his eyelashes at you, try to act all coy and innocent, but you know him. You know that he did something to your drink. You can feel in your bones, the very fiber of your being.

“Ha ha ha, of course you didn’t.” You reach for the cup. “I’m dumping this out, it probably has a dead spider just chilling at the bottom of it all like, ‘why did this have to happen to me? I had a wife and children to feed, why did everything have to end like this? Why? Why—” And you pick it up, only for all the contents to come rushing out, splattering all over the table and dripping off of it. All you can hear is John’s stupid and obnoxious guffawing and you just stand there, dumb-founded, with an empty mug clutched in your hand. “What.”

“I may have done something to your mug though.” He stands up, claps you on the shoulder, and saunters back to his room with a full Prankster’s Gambit.

You look through the missing bottom of your mug and whisper ‘why’ to yourself.

\--

“Someday you’re gonna get punched in the dick. Somebody you pranked is just going to go walking up to you and they’ll be all like ‘hi’ and you’ll be like ‘hey’ before they sucker punch you in your dick.”

“Probably.”

\--

John suggests that you two go on a walk together. “It’s nice outside,” he reasons as he fumbles with the blinds to reveal the picture-perfect suburban neighborhood (it’s so different from what you’re used to: tall skyscrapers called apartments and a heat that suffocates, but it’s close to the college and you guess that’s the important part?). You approach the window, watch the strong winds blow the pollen about, and you return to the bathroom to down your allergy meds as fast as a Strider can.

For some reason you two decide to head towards the college and while it’s a very nice college, it’s not really your first choice for spending your weekends. The place is pretty busy for it being a Saturday though, you note as your eyes skip from loungers to joggers to studious busybodies. You wonder why John would even come here, but he seems pretty intent on the path, like he wanted to come here for a specific reason, and you’re good enough of a guy to let him have his way.

Every once in a while at least…

Okay, so it’s more like always, but who’s counting?

Not you, that’s definitely for sure.

…

“ _Dave!”_ Your head snaps up at the sharp call of your name and it’s only then that you notice John isn’t next to you. Taking a peek over your shoulder reveals him waving at you for your attention and he’s standing next to somebody and you hide a grimace when you recognize blue-hair-blonde-roots as Vriska. She’s got something of a smirk on her face as you shuffle over to John’s side.

“Nice of you to be with us,” she greets as she claps you on the back and _oh shit that actually hurt._

“Oh god my back. Are you taking steroids or doing some serious jacking session? Shit, I think I might have a bruise on my back now.”

“Don’t be such a baby, Strider. I’ve seen you and your brother strife. You can take more serious shit than that little pap.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t bruise like some strange pale and pasty fruit.”

John pokes you on the back, right where Vriska whacked you. You swat him away, irritated twist on your lips, and he laughs. “Dude, if you had a bruise, you totally would have punched me by now.

You punch him.

\--

“Dave, look! We have matching bruises now.”

“Just shut up, John.”

\--

You’re not really interested in the film that John picked. You’ve seen it about a million times already and the only consolation about this movie night is that it’s not a Nicolas Cage or Matthew McConaughey movie (you see their faces in your dreams every now and then for Pete’s sake). It’s Ghostbusters tonight, which is only marginally better since you two haven’t seen it over and over again like Con Air (you swear to God, if Con Air were a person, you would greet that dumb-sucky guy with a heartfelt punch to the face).

So instead of watching the film, you’re just watching John who seems really into the movie. His face is completely blank, but his eyes are focused so intently on the screen to an abnormal degree that you’re not even entirely sure he’s watching the film? Maybe he’s spacing out and just staring at the screen at this point. You do that sometimes, maybe he does that? Or maybe he’s sleeping because you know –for a fact—that John can sleep with his eyes open. Which is entirely creepy, but that’s a rant for another time.

“John?” You shake his shoulder a little bit to which he shrugs you off with a grunt before turning to give you a _very_ exasperated look that just says ‘can you not.’ You put your hands up in a pacifying manner. “I was just checking to make sure you weren’t checking out on me.”

“I’m not.” He looks assured of himself, but his says that like it’s a question and you don’t believe him.

“Why don’t we just watching something new?”

“But we’re in the middle of watching this?”

“It’s not going to kill you to not finish a movie all the way through,” you tell him as you bounce off the sofa. He’s not making a move to stop you as you approach the movie cabinet and that’s the green light you need. You grab a movie that you haven’t seen before, something about an apocalypse and some dumb teens who start it? What the hell kind of movie is this? You honest to God do not have high expectations for it because one, the summary just sucks and two, it’s one of John’s movie. “You okay with an apocalypse movie?” You don’t wait for his okay. This is a sudden hijacking of movie night and you’re going to turn this shitty night around so hold on tight cause it’s gonna be a rocky ride.

You scurry back to the couch, take your rightful place curled up by John’s side. You’re watching his expression though your shades, watch his blue eyes narrow before they suddenly widen and he smiles.

“Oh this movie!”

“Good?”

“I guess so? I haven’t watched it all the way through yet.” He shifts in his seat, nestles closer to you. You try not to make a move when he wraps his arms around yours. “But the beginning is super boring and lame, but a lot of people tell me that it gets a lot better later on?” He shrugs. “I don’t know though.”

“If it sucks, it can’t be worse than your other ones.”

“Wow, rude.”

You snicker, press play.

At the end, you stifle tears for the boy in blue who dies a martyr’s death.


	4. On a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought the prompt was 'first date' instead of 'on a date' which is why this kind of hits the prompt, but not really. Well, more so than usual.
> 
> Whoops.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 05:16 --

TG: we finally did it kids  
TG: we finally climbed this entire mountain   
TT: Ah yes, the day when the sweet rewards of victory are within our grasps.  
TT: I never thought I would live to see this day.   
TG: do you even know what im talking about   
TT: No.   
TT: As hard as it is to believe, I don’t know everything about everybody.   
TG: could have fooled me   
TT: Dave, as much as I do enjoy our very numerous conversations, I do hope you realize that AP testing is this week and I would very much like to get back to studying for my calculus test. May you get on with it or leave me alone?   
TG: duly noted  
TG: ill leave you alone   
TT: Thank you.   
TG: after this   
TT: Dave, please.   
TG: no dude this is so important that you wont even believe it when you hear it  
TG: but you better believe it  
TG: cause its true   
TT: Is it possible to speed this process up a little bit?   
TG: no  
TG: okay maybe there is but only because you asked so nicely  
TG: okay so get this  
TG: i asked egbert out   
TT: And he said yes.   
TG: and he said yes  
TG: goddammit lalonde come on  
TG: what about my entire spectacular build up   
TG: you just ripped the rug out from under me  
TG: robbed me of my spotlight  
TG: help help officer help  
TG: an unruly blonde just stole my handmade rug right out from under my feet  
TG: there she goes scampering off go get her you big strong officer you   
TT: I fail to see what the issue is? Did you just message me to tell me or is there something you wanted to ask?   
TG: wow cant a guy tell his best friend that hes going to go out with his other best friend  
TG: why does there always have to be an ulterior motive  
TG: but there totally is  
TG: i didnt think he would actually say yes and he let me pick the date but i have no idea what to do   
TT: You can do whatever you want and he’ll be happy with it.   
TG: well yeah but thats part of the problem  
TG: this has to be special  
TG: and i dont really know what to do other than the usual cliche stuff like movies ice cream and i dont even know  
TG: what do people even do on first dates  
TG: rose help me what do i do   
TT: I can’t even remember my first date, Dave. I was completely and utterly smashed, remember?   
TG: well do you remember if you kissed her or not  
TG: would that be too much on the first date  
TG: but i want to kiss him but should i wait for the second date or what  
TG: but what if theres no second date and im left without a kiss or john  
TG: what if the date goes so badly that he doesnt want to be friends with me anymore  
TG: has that ever happened before is that a thing that can happen in real life  
TG: rose???   
TT: Sorry, I was just looking up a theorem.  
TT: And I highly doubt that John is going to revoke his friendship with you just because of one bad date.  
TT: Honestly, I think if he were to revoke it, he would have done it by now.   
TG: wow  
TG: thank you lalonde you sure know how to cheer somebody up  
TG: has anybody ever told you that   
TT: Why yes. Yes somebody has.  
TT: But honestly, don’t fret about it too much. You’ll just blow it out of proportion and you’ll somehow manage to mess up royally because of it. Just do what comes naturally to you because that’s what John likes in you after all.  
TT: He likes you for you, Dave. There’s nothing to worry about at all.   
TG: okay  
TG: okay got it  
TG: but that still doesnt change the fact that i dont know what to do about our date?  
TG: do i take him out for movies and ice cream and feed him my scoop or what  
TG: what do i do   
TT: Go on a romantic escapade with him to experience some nice sceneries involving nature.  
TT: I really have to go now though. I wish you luck on your endeavors though!

\-- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 05:31 --

TG: wait are you suggesting that we go on a walk  
TG: dont you fucking leave thats a terrible suggestion  
TG: lalonde  
TG: come on

Two days later Dave takes John out for a romantic escapade to experience some nice sceneries involving nature.


	5. Kissing

“This is pretty dumb.”

You look up at him then back down at the long sheet of paper. The o that you were trying to paint looks like you drew it with your eyes closed and you wonder if it’ll look better from farther away. Maybe you can salvage it by turning it into a flower, but the banner is for next week’s football game. AKA, the very last one and a whole bunch of people will be there to watch sweaty and smelly teenage boys trying to grab each other. You grab the paintbrush dipped in red— you’ve been told that you can paint a pretty killer rose.

“Dave, are you even listening to me?”

And the answer to that would be no. John’s been complaining about this since you two found out that you both didn’t meet the school’s community service requirements to walk the stage. He says that it’s all pretty fucking dumb and they’re all dumbasses for making students do this and yeah you agree with him, but man, you can only handle so much of John’s whining before you want to rip your own arm off and choke him with it. 

“Hey, can you do something more productive with that mouth of yours?” You tell him as you pretend to focus on drawing this petal because drawing a single petal is hard work and you are a hard worker if nothing else (that is totally a lie). He makes this sort of indignant little noise and you look up to see him glaring at you. You sigh. “Egbert, come on, bitching about this shit isn’t going to make it any better. At least bitch and work on your shit too.”

“I already finished.”

A pause. “Oh.” You set your paintbrush down, crawl over to where he is and shift through the stacked posters. “It seems like you did.” There are eight of them and they look the same and you’re a bit disappointed about that (cause wow boring), but most of yours look the same too except for the one that you messed up on. You sit back on your haunches, look at John who stares back at you expectantly.

“Now what oh great one?”

“You do whatever the fuck your heart pleases while I throw myself into my work. That sound good to you?” You don’t wait for his answer before you shuffle over back to your original station. Paintbrush in hand again, you chew on the inside of your cheek as you work on the rest of your damn rose. John’s doing something out of your field of vision: handling those posters roughly by the sound of it and maybe storing them away? You’re not sure. You see his socks when he stops right in front of you though. “Something you want, princess?” You ask him, flicking your wrist to give a petal a nice flourish.

John bends his knees, rests his weight on the balls of his feet. You think he’s watching you paint, but you’re not entirely sure. You feel his eyes on you, but imagination is a strong thing and you continue painting. “Maybe,” John says and you see his weight shift forward and he kisses your forehead.

“John,” you warn, but he just laughs and his fingers are butt-fucking-lube-cold when he brushes aside your bangs. He presses his lips to your forehead again and then your left cheek, your right cheek, your nose, and you grumble under your breath. He pulls back with a soft laugh and you glare up at him over your shades.

“Does somebody not like kisses?” John teases, smile growing wider when you push your shades back up (and not notice that you left a streak of red on your face). 

You raise an eyebrow at his suppressed snickers, but think nothing of them. You get red in your hair when you swipe your bangs to the side. “John, come on, after I finish this poster you can mack on me as much as you want. Patience, grasshopper. It is a virtue.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He gives you a quick smooch on the cheek then he’s out of your personal bubble, and you quickly finish painting the last of the words in your characteristic angular penmanship. It looks pretty damn nice if you do say so yourself as you sit back on your haunches to regard and bask in the beauty of it. But you think it could do with a couple more roses. Just that one rose by itself just looks so fucking out of place and you’re picking up a new brush. 

John groans. 

“Just hold your horses, man. I’m just gonna draw some fucking roses. Just look at this one rose, so alone, oh the inhumanity of it all.” You pick dip the brush in the blue paint cause blue compliments red, just a true fact, and you quickly draw some roses that blossom off the poster’s edges. “Oh fuck.” And now it just looks lopsided and you pick up another clean brush, dip that into the green. A couple of buds and more roses lined up on trailing vines that twist and curve around the edges. It looks pretty nice now, but something is missing and you tip your head to the side. You know that John is making a big show out of rolling his eyes, even though nobody sees it, and you decide to paint purple roses just so spite him. Purple roses frame the letters and you think it looks nice now. Way nicer than it did before at least. “Yeah, okay, I’m done now.”

“Cool” is all he says as he kisses you on the lips.


	6. Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More like Dave wearing John's clothes.

“Where are my clothes?” Dave asks, kneeling at the foot of the bed so that only the tip of his head is seen. He’s digging through the pile of clothes there, most of which are John’s and he doesn’t know how that happened. He’s pretty sure that John threw his clothes over here too, but alas, where are they? “John, seriously, get your fat ass up. Do you remember where you threw my shit?”

John lets out a low grumble that’s almost a sentence, but not quite. Dave rolls his eyes, gets up from where he was kneeling, and jumps onto John. He purposely digs his elbows into the other boy’s side and John cries out like a cat that was just hit by a car, wriggles and thrashes on the bed to dislodge Dave’s elbow. It works and Dave rolls off with little resistance, takes the pillow to the face with a straight face.

“You _jackass!_ ”

“Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty.”

John just glowers at him, rubs his sore side before turning around and curling in on himself. Dave just watches, knows that John isn’t going back to sleep any time soon and gives him a cautious poke on the back. “No, fuck off, loser,” John grouses, pulling the bed sheets over his head. “That really hurt.” And almost like an after thought he adds, “And you suck.”

Dave laughs, rests his head on where he thinks John’s legs are. “I’m butt naked, I can’t find my clothes, and physics starts in a couple of minutes. Where are they?”

“Man, I don’t know. I do not keep track of your clothes.”

“You were the one who took them off.”

“I’ll look for them later then,” he snaps, flipping over so that he’s facing Dave. “Just wear some of my clothes.” He flips the blankets off, clambers out of bed, and now there are two butt-naked men in the room instead of just one. Dave pretends that he’s not checking out John’s butt when John bends over to rifle through his clean clothes for something that might fit Dave.

Which is to say not very much.

He finds something that meets his requirements though and tosses them over his shoulder at Dave who catches it with ease. “They might be baggy on you cause you’re such a twink. But, uh, maybe—” Dave isn’t listening anymore, more interested in the clothes than with the talk. But he frowns when he realizes that it’s John’s favorite knockoff Ghostbusters shirt. It’s a bit tight on him so it’ll probably fit Dave, but John wears it at almost every chance he can get. He’s not sure if he wants to wear it. “—do you need underwear? Were you even wearing underwear today? Do you want to borrow mine? Is that weird? I think it is kind of weird—“

“You’ve had my dick in your mouth before.”

“Okay so maybe not so weird?” John falls silent, watches Dave stare at his shirt. He can’t really see half of Dave’s face, but he can see the tense muscles in the other’s shoulders. “Do you want another shirt?” he offers with a gentle smile on his face, but Dave knows how to read between the lines and he feels even guiltier. Because John is hurt even if he hides it well, even if he doesn’t know it. And it’s all over a fucking shirt. It’s just a shirt. That’s literally all it is, but it’s just so much more than that too. Girls share clothes all the time without anybody suspecting that something is going on between them (see exhibit A: Terezi and Nepeta), but he and John are not girls and college is full of curious folks with loose lips.

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want another shirt?”

“Nah, man, it’s okay.” He slips John’s shirt over his head, does a three-sixty. It fits him well and he’s not surprised. “How do I look? Fantastic? Why thank you, babe, I’m sure you’ll look as fantastic as I do one day.” Dave lets his arms drop to his side, thinks that he can do this, he can walk out of the room wearing John’s favorite knockoff Ghostbusters shirt because the grin on John’s face is beautiful and well worth it.

“Hey dork, do you want pants with that shirt or not?”


	7. Cosplaying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boys talking about crossplaying as fictional magical girls.

“We should cosplay as sailor scouts next year,” John says, “But then I would have to shave my legs so maybe not.”

He’s lying on his bed, tummy up with your laptop resting on his chest, just chilling and scrolling through images of Sailor Moon cosplays. You try to imagine John in the characteristic sailor fuku and it’s… kind of hot in this sort of fucked up way? But then again it is John in a skintight top, mini skirt, and high heels so what’s not to like? Nothing, there is nothing to not like.

John burps, whispers a quiet “excuse me,” and you roll your eyes.

“Man, just go as your cute bara self,” you tell him, waving around the fabric scissors as your gesture. “I can guarantee you that there will be at least one person there who will be fapping to that later on.” That one person is you. No shame. No shame at this point.

“That’s just gross, Dave.” John lets out a sigh, closes the laptop, and pushes it off his chest. He shoves his hands behind his head and looks up at the glow-in-the-dark stars that dot his ceiling. He added them in recently, though you’re not sure why since he’ll be moving out for college in a month or two. But eh, you don’t understand a lot of what John does. “If I do that, I might as well cosplay as Madoka. All pink and white and ruffly and it will be pretty funny, I guess.” He flips around to face you. “Plus, her petticoat is pretty fucking nice too.”

“Petticoat?”

“That thing that makes her skirt all poofy and fluffy?”

“Oh.” You look back down at the green fabric laid out on John’s floor. His eyes follow the tilt of your head and you both are staring at green fabric with pattern pieces strewn about it. Probably be best if you rearranged these before you cut them out. You don’t know why you didn’t do that before. “So that’s what they’re called?”

“Yeah.” He sounds a little distracted and you can hear him rustling the sheets on his bed. You’re busy rearranging the patterns, pushing them up against corners and fitting them together like a badly constructed puzzle when John wraps his arms around your waist. You’re acutely aware of his hairy man-boy chest pressed up against your back, but you try to focus on more on the steady lull of his breathing than on his nipples that you can feel through his thin cotton shirt.

“Wanna do couple cosplay next year?”

“Uh,” you lick your lips, “ _couple_ cosplay?”

He sighs, all exasperated like he can’t believe you’re asking, but you can’t believe _he’s_ asking and— “Yes Dave, couple _couple_ cosplay.”

“Couple couple _couple_ cosplay?”

“Couple couple couple _couple_ cosplay.”

“Couple couple couple couple—“ John gently head knocks his head against yours, mumbling a quiet “Dave no” to you. You quiet up right away, a red flush making its way uptown to your cheeks because wow you are being kind of dumb right now.

“The Homura to your Madoka?” You venture, the words crawling out of your mouth like cautious spring sprouts and you can feel the curve of John’s smile on your skin.

“Yep.”

“Totally serious couple cosplay?”

“Yep.”

You smile. “Sweet.”


	8. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't have anything for shopping, but I didn't want to move ahead and skip it so I just sat down and wrote this out and said, "fuck this shit man, i am so done. So done."

“Do we need sugar?” John asks out loud. He’s standing close to the aisle, bent at the hip with one hand idly scratching at his morning stubble. A woman passes behind and Dave watches her not so subtly check out John’s ass. “I think we need sugar,” he continues, but makes no move to grab any because he is now beginning the critically important step of inspecting the sugar brands, which is dumb because sugar is sugar and it’s not like they’ll be able to tell off-brand sugar from brand once it’s in. Or at least Dave never has been able to; he’s actually not that sure about John.

“I don’t think we need any more sugar,” Dave mumbles as he sidles up to John’s side. He meets little resistance when he wraps his arms around John’s waist and pulls their body close. He even gets away with pressing gentle kisses to John’s neck, but that might be because John is completely and totally ignoring Dave in favor of the sugar. “There’s enough sugar already.”

“From _where_?” He shifts in Dave’s grip, trying to dislodge Dave, but gives up when it proves futile (it’s like trying to pull apart two magnets connected by gorilla glue—AKA, it’s just not happening any time soon). He throws his hands up in the air. “We don’t have any at home.”

Dave mouths more kisses along John’s neck, which earns him more exasperated sighs and an overly dramatic eye roll. “We have plenty at home.” The kisses continue, trailing up John’s neck to follow the curve of his jaw.

“ _Where?_ ”

“Right here,” Dave says as he presses his lips to John’s.

A pause. “That’s a shitty pun and you should be ashamed of yourself.” But there’s a smile on John’s face, bashful and amused like when he took Dave’s hand in his for the very first time all those years ago. And just like all those years ago, he takes Dave’s hand in his again and carefully removes himself from Dave’s hold. Their hands are still clasped together when John grabs one of the sugar bags and deposits it in the basket. “Okay,” he says as he starts walking out of the aisle, Dave in tow, “we just need to get some vitamins and then we’re done.”

And that’s not really what Dave was expecting. “Vitamins? Why do we need vitamins?”

“Cause of your dumb allergy.” He takes a right into aisle 15 and stops. There’s only a small selection of vitamins and various other nutritional supplements (one of the few cons about this grocery store according to John) and John makes this soft _tsk_ as he digs through his pocket. “Seriously, who is allergic to the sun? How is that even a thing that is possible?” He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper and from over his shoulder; Dave can see that it’s a list of recommended brands from their doctor.

“So I need more D in my life?”

“Uh, yeah? We all need more D in our lives,” John says with a straight face and Dave tries his best not to laugh, he really does, but a small snort gets through, and John frowns. Tries to crane his neck to look at Dave’s face. “Did I say something weird? Why are you laughing?”

“Okay, okay, let me phrase this differently for you. So I need the D?”

“Yes, you need the D—oh.” 


	9. Hanging Out With Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slowly (VERY SLOWLY) making my way through this challenge.
> 
> Chapter warning: character death

“I… can’t shake this nagging feeling,” Rose says out loud. Her grip on the mushroom is tight and Dave would make a joke about penises in her hands, but he can see that her knuckles are white and her worry lines prominent. He holds his tongue. “I think that somebody is going to die.”

He takes a deep breath and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Oh.” Rose watches him, grip still tight on the mushroom, and he wonders why she’s looking at him like he might break. Because he won’t, he doesn’t break. He’s had to deal with people he loved dying and this time won’t be any different, but he has to know because maybe it’s not who he’s thinking about, but the question sticks to his throat and he can’t quite get it out. 

(Don’t let it be John, please don’t let it be John, please please please—)

“It’s John, Dave. I think John is going to die.”

The world stops and Dave takes in a shaky breath. “Okay.”

\--

“Uh, hey, bro? How’re you feeling?” Dave hovers near John, wants to get closer, spend more time with him, because Rose isn’t always right, but she’s more right than wrong and he’s afraid. But Jade’s warning sounds in his head and he bounces on the balls of his feet, edging closer to John before taking two steps back. “Got a mindless craving for flesh or is it still just for terrible movies?”

“Hey, my movies are not terrible.” And John tries to swat at Dave, he really does, but he’s too tired. He already looks wiped out from talking, but he still musters up the energy to smile at Dave. It’s a smile that’s just a flicker of his fiery and bright grin and Dave’s heart pounds.

“They’re pretty bad.” Dave laughs for the two of them because John usually does it, but he’s too tired to do it now and he clutches hard at John’s weak hand and he feels sick. “Shit’s terrible, John.”

\--

“Okay, so John isn’t infected!” Jade announces with a smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes and they know that something is wrong. They gather around her and Rose places a hand on Jade’s shoulder, but that just makes her lips quiver and she toys with the bloodied bandages in her hands. “But um, the bite site doesn’t look good.” Green eyes flicker over to where John is resting, rather fitfully, and she sighs. “It’s infected—like a bacterial infection, not the-the-the—“ She stops, doesn’t try to get the rest of her sentence out because they understand and Dave doesn’t think he’s ever seen her so tired before. “So yeah, that’s that.”

“Well that is a conundrum, but a wound infection is better than the other type of infection.” Rose’s fingers gently tap along her chin as she thinks and Dave can see the cogs turning in her mind, see her formulating a plan and he feels relief. At least some things haven’t changed. “At least we can combat this. There’s a convenience store a couple of ways back, two of us can go get some dressing, bandages, antibiotics, anything that might be useful if anything is left.”

Jade’s arm immediately shoots up. “I volunteer to go!”

Dave raises his hand. “Yeah, I’ll go too. I mean, I may not know all that much about this zombie virus thing like little Miss Genius over here or how to make edible shit like you or you know, how to take care of this group of ragamuffins in general, but wounds? I got this. John’s not gonna die on my watch.”

Rose smiles. “Excellent. We’re counting on you guys.”

\--

John won’t stop shivering.

But the kicker is that he’s swathed in all their spare clothing and then some, but he’s still shivering and Dave is worried. “John, how’re you feeling?” And he regrets asking that question cause, wow, all one needs is a pair of eyes to see that John is not feeling well. “Okay, dumb question to ask, sorry about that. Don’t need to answer it, I’ll understand cause I mean, you look like shit. Like, shit-shit, not the shit. Just shit.” He swallows. “You look like poop.”

John raises an eyebrow at Dave. “Um… okay?”

He looks away, ashamed of himself and his bright red face. “Okay, so I’m gonna go talk to Lalonde and see if she can work some of her black majyyks to make you better.” He tries to be as gentle as possible when he ruffles John’s hair because he’s just held together by luck and fortune at this point. He wants to say more, but the skin around John’s wound is puffy, burning hot, and Dave thinks it must hurt a lot even though John doesn’t show it.

Dave flees to Rose’s side without saying anything else.

\--

“Shocking news of the century: wound’s just getting worse,” Dave tells the others after he does his best to clean it out with their limited resources. He pours some of their precious water out into a can, dunks his hand in there, and it barely submerges his fingers. He wriggles them around. “It smells like shit, it looks like shit, it is shit. Getting real gross in there. I would suggest airing it out, but then I would have to deal with people puking cause it’s that nasty.”

Rose hands him a towel, just a spare scrap of Jade’s skirt. “It’s moist under there though, good for bacteria growth. Maybe airing it out would be a good idea?” Dave wipes his hand on the offered scrap and Rose dumps out the water. Jade watches it splatter on the ground ruefully and sighs.

“But then weird stuff might get in there and then we’ll have more of an issue!” Jade kicks a small rock, watches it bounce into the soggy dirt before it stops. “How about changing the dressings more often? That would work right?”

“More than before you mean? It doesn’t fucking matter, we ran out,” Dave says, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m at my fucking wit’s end over here. John’s not getting better and it’s pretty obvious that he’s suffering right now. He’s not getting better any time soon. I… just what the fuck do we do now?”

Silence answers.

\--

“You look like shit,” Dave tells John, his scarred hands gently carding through John’s hair. John doesn’t respond, just lays there, body stretched out with his head resting on Dave’s lap. He hasn’t been responding since he lost consciousness. Dave wonders if unconscious people can still feel pain. He really hopes not. “What with that raging infection taking over your whole entire body, you’ve seen better days, buddy.”

“Dave,” Rose says, lavender eyes half-closed. She’s been crying, tear tracks washing away the grim on her cheeks. “Is that really the type of thing to say to John?”

“What do you want me to say?” He frowns. “Hey there John, you’re my best fucking friend and I don’t want you to die? I’m sorry I’m such a shitty best friend and I’m sorry you’re dying and I’m sorry I couldn’t sa—” His mouth snaps shut. He hesitantly opens it to say something else, but nothing comes out. Dave looks away, shoulders quivering. Rose places her hand on his shoulder and he leans into her touch. 

“You were an exceptional character,” Rose begins, cautiously. “I never met anybody quite like you and I’m sure that’s because there is no one like you.” She touches his hand, frowning. “I will never regret meeting you, but I’m sorry we met in these conditions and I’m sorry you’ll perish here. You… you’re one of my closest friends and I hope you’ll pass in peace. It’s the least you deserve.” She lets go.

There’s a pause before Jade speaks up, “John, we’ve had a lot of fun times together.” There are dark circles under her eyes and tears spill from her eyes again, but she smiles, touches John’s shoulder with her fingertips. “I feel like I’ve known you all my life—like maybe we’re separated twins or something! It would have been great if we could have spent more time together; I really wanted to see those other magic tricks of yours! I’m sure they would been awesome.” She lets him go, her tears stopping. “We’ll miss you.”

\--

John dies later in the night from lung failure.

\--

“I’ll catch up,” Dave tells them and he waits until they turn their backs, start walking towards their new future. He turns around though, starts heading back towards their old campsite, packed up and empty, stopping only when he’s standing next to John’s buried body. He crouches, touches the flowers they gathered for his marker.

“Hey there, Egbert. I, uh… I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I couldn’t be your hero. I tried my best, but it… wasn’t enough and I’m sorry.” He swallows the knot in his throat, slowly stands up, and lets go. 

“Bye, John.”


	10. With Animal Ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to make this smut, but I just couldn't do it. I just couldn't.

John’s been working on his essay for six hours. Six hours straight. Not six hours chopped up into these nice little bite-sized packages, manageable and sensible, but six hours straight. Not once has he popped out of his room and Dave can’t hear anything in there, which isn’t different from the norm. But what is different from the norm is that Dave’s not sure if he’s dead or not (oh jeez, what if John had died and he just hadn’t noticed? How’s he going to look Dadbert in the eyes?).

His ear twitches and his tail lashes behind him and his nails tap along the metal knob of John’s door. “John?” He calls out, hoping he doesn’t sound as desperate as he feels, but he gets no response. Troubling. And not the normal brand of troubling or  _troubling_ , but  _deeply_  troubling. He tries again, voice higher, “John? You in there?  _John?_ ” The doorknob rattles, stubbornly refuses to move until he applies just the right amount of force and then he’s in, stumbling to catch himself.

John’s in his room, slumped over his desk, and for a second Dave really is afraid that he’s dead. But then he spies the little puddle of drool forming on an opened notebook and with that comes the rise and fall of John’s chest and the small snores. Dave sighs, feels a bit stupid for worrying so needlessly, and his shoulders sag without the weight of maybe having to write John’s eulogy loaming down on him. His smile is soft.

He approaches him, careful not to make a sound to disturb him, a silly thing to do when he shakes John’s shoulders the moment he’s close enough. “Egbert you dumb butt, you fell asleep writing your essay. You’re getting drool everywhere you manchild.” He stops when John groans, nose wrinkling up, but John doesn’t wake up and Dave doesn’t try again. Just makes a tsk-ing noise at the drool pooling in John’s notebook and he pulls some tissues out of the tissue box (conveniently kept close for allergy season John had told him with a wide smile) and mopes up the mess. John snorts. Dave briefly considers shoving tissue up his nose.

(He doesn’t.)

Instead he wakes up the computer, saves what progress John has made (a whole three pages, pretty dang good), and shuts down the computer. Dave pauses then though, looks at John’s sleeping face and gently lays his hand on John’s head. He hesitates. Strokes John’s hair at the base of his rabbit ears and if he listens closely enough he can hear John’s soft purring, almost like bumblebees buzzing away in the distance. Dave smiles, wraps his arms around John, lays his head to rest on top of his, and lets himself purr.

He stays like that, listening to the sound of cars driving past, the occasional roar of a motorcycle revving up. Watches through half-lidded eyes as shadows dance through the room, little shadow puppets that grow and transform, traveling through until they disappear. It’s nice he thinks, peaceful and his eyelids start to droop.

“Dave?” John shifts underneath him, “can you let go? You’re heavy.” And Dave lets go. Backs off to give him some space so he can stretch. But John doesn’t stretch; he just squirms around in place for a little bit, readjusting his arms and his head before he settles down. He cocks his head to look at Dave, his glasses askew and sleepy smile on his face. “Okay, permission to commence cuddles granted.”

Dave smiles, just a barely there shift of his lips, but it’s a smile regardless and John’s smile grows wider. “Permission to initiate negotiations pertaining cuddles, sir?” Dave asks, with a cock of his head, hands in his pockets like he’s not plotting something.

But John has lived with Dave long enough to recognize when he’s scheming and his dad had raised him never to back down. John is ready for whatever Dave has in store. “Permission granted, sir!”

John is not ready to find himself on his bed, cotton ball tail pressing into the mattress under his weight. His gaze flickers from side to side, trying to gauge where Dave is, but that question is answered when Dave’s hands cage his head and he looks up to see Dave staring down at him, mouth in a straight line, ears pricked forward. His shades slip down and John can see the red of his iris, can see his own startled reflection in them. His fingers skim the frame and Dave’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets John take the shades and set them on the nightstand. “Now?” he asks, letting his arms hang loosely around Dave’s neck.

“Yeah now.” He rests his head against the steady lub-dub of John’s heart and it’s comfortable, even with his legs hanging off the edge of the bed, easy for any monsters lurking underneath to grab. “I mean if you want to?” Dave shrugs and his tail lazily sways back and forth. He hauls himself up a little bit, just enough to press a chaste kiss to John’s chapped lips. Just to see if it’ll make a difference. “Only if you’re down with the D though.”

John hums, blue eyes slipping shut, and Dave can feel his fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt. “How long was I asleep for?” He opens his eyes again when he feels his glasses tugged off his face, watches as Dave sets them down next to his shades.

“I don’t know? You were in here for about six hours, hashed out three pages, which by the way, are now saved thanks to yours truly. You’re welcome.”

“Hmn… so I was asleep for about three hours?”

“Woah, how do you know that? Do you just know how long it takes you to write a three-page essay or something? Holy shit you do don’t you? Look at that smarmy little smile, you little dipshit—can’t hide that cute ass smile from me. I don’t even understand how you can figure that out. Pray tell, how do you figure it out oh wise one—“ He stops, looks down at the finger pressed against his lips. Looks back up at John, raises an eyebrow. “Reallly? The finger, Egbert?”

“Yes, the finger, because you are being a dumb butt and dumb butts get the finger,” John jokes, his hand dropping from Dave’s lips. It trails up to the nape of Dave’s neck, the other hand slipping under Dave’s shirt, and he can feel thin fingers toying around with the thin strands back there, feel the goose bumps that are left in the wake of John’s warm hands. But he keeps his eyes on John’s face, on his smile as it gets closer and closer and his eyes slip close when their lips make contact.

John kind of tastes like stale breath, but Dave pushes past that, moves his mouth against the other boy’s even when the chapped skin scratches the soft skin of his lips. He can feel John’s fingers tap along his ribcage, a tuneless melody derived from anxious nerves, and Dave pulls back.

“You okay, man?” Dave asks and John nods, mumbles a soft “yeah” and leans in for another kiss, but Dave doesn’t believe him. He backs off, just out of smooching range, and rolls off John to lie next to him instead. The street outside is quiet and he thinks it might be 6:35 right now. He stares up at the white popcorn ceiling. “We don’t have to do this shit if you don’t want to. There’s a lot of other stuff we can do. Like cuddling.” He glances over at John, but he’s busy inspecting the ceiling. “You like cuddling, I like cuddling, it’s a win-win situation.”

“But what if I  _don’t_  want to cuddle?”

“Then I’m cool with whatever else you have in mind.” Dave shrugs. “What  _do_  you have in mind?”

“I don’t know,” John says, flipping over onto his side to look at the other boy. "We can watch Ghostbusters or something? I think I have it on Netflix." His right fist digs into his cheek while his other hand rests on the sheets and his long ears are bent back from where they’re pressed against the wall. Dave thinks he looks funny like that and tries to stifle his chuckle with his pale fist pressing against his pale lips. John raises an eyebrow at that. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” he says as he tugs on the collar of John’s shirt, pulls him in for a short sweet kiss.


End file.
